Beechcroft at Rockstone by Charlotte M. Yonge

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BEECHCROFT AT ROCKSTONE

by

Charlotte M Yonge

CHAPTER I. A DISPERSION

'A telegram! Make haste and open it, Jane; they always make me sonervous! I believe that is the reason Reginald always _will_telegraph when he is coming,' said Miss Adeline Mohun, a very pretty,well preserved, though delicate-looking lady of some age about forty,as her elder sister, brisk and lively and some years older, came intothe room.

'No, it is not Reggie. It is from Lily. Poor Lily! Jasper---accident---Come.'

'Poor dear Lily! Is it young Jasper or old Jasper, I wonder?'

'If it were young Jasper she would have put Japs. I am afraid it isher husband. If so, she will be going off to him. I must catch the11.20 train. Will you come, Ada?'

'Oh no; I should be knocked up, and on your hands. The suspense isbad enough at home.'

'If it is old Jasper, we shall see in the paper to-day. I will sendit down to you from the station. Supposing it is Sir Jasper, and shewants to go out to him, we must take in some of the children.'

'Oh! Dear little Primrose would be nice enough, but what should wedo with that Halfpenny woman? If we had the other girls, I supposethey would be at school all day; but surely some might go toBeechcroft. And mind, Jane, I will not have you overtaskingyourself! Do not take any of them without having Gillian to helpyou. That I stipulate.'

Jane Mohun seemed as if she did not hear as these sentences wereuttered at intervals, while she stood dashing off postcards at herdavenport. Then she said, on her way to the door---

'Don't expect me to-night. I will send Fanny to ask one of theWellands to come in to you, and telegraph if I bring any one homewith me.'

'But, Jane dear--'

However, the door was shut, and by the time Miss Adeline had reachedher sister's room, the ever-ready bag was nearly packed.

'I only wanted to say, dear Jane, that you must give my love to dearLily. I am grieved---grieved for her; but indeed you must notundertake anything rash.' (A shake of the head, as the shoes wentinto their neat bag.) 'Do not let her persuade you to stay atSilverfold in her absence. You cannot give up everything here'

'Yes, yes, Ada, I know it does not suit you. Never fear.'

'It is not that, but you are much too useful here to drop everything,especially now every one is away. I would willingly sacrificemyself, but--'

'Yes, I know, Ada dear. Now, good-bye, and take care of yourself,and don't be nervous. It may mean only that young Japs has twistedhis little finger.'

And with a kiss, Miss Mohun ran downstairs as fast and lightly as ifher years had been half their amount, and accomplished her orders toFanny---otherwise Mrs. Mount---a Beechcroft native, who, on being lefta widow, had returned to her former mistresses, bringing with her adaughter, who had grown up into an efficient housemaid. After a fewwords with her, Miss Mohun sped on, finding time at the station topurchase a morning paper just come down, and to read among thetelegrams---

'COLOMBO, Sept. 3rd.'Lieutenant-General Sir Jasper Merrifield, G.C.B., has been thrownfrom his horse, and received severe injuries.'

She despatched this paper to her sister by a special messenger, whomshe had captured by the way, and was soon after in the train,knitting and pondering.

At Silverton station she saw the pony carriage, and in it her nieceGillian, a girl not quite seventeen, with brown eyes showing tracesof tears.

'Mamma knew you would come,' she said.

'You have heard direct, of course.'

'Yes; Claude telegraphed. The horse fell over a precipice. Papa'sleg and three ribs are broken. Not dangerous. That is all it says;and mamma is going out to him directly.'

'I was quite sure she would. Well, Gillian, we must do the best wecan. Has she any plans?'

'I think she waited for you to settle them. Hal is come; he wantedto go with her, but she says it will cost too much, and besides,there is his Ordination in Advent.'

'Has she telegraphed to your uncles?'

'To Beechcroft and to Stokesley; but we don't quite know where UncleReginald is. Perhaps he will see the paper.'

Gillian's tears were flowing again, and her aunt said---

'Come, my dear, you must not give way; you must do all you can tomake it better for your mother.'

'I know,' she answered. 'Indeed, I didn't cry till I sat waiting,and it all came over me. Poor papa! and what a journey mamma willhave, and how dreadful it will be without her! But I know that it ishorrid of me, when papa and my sisters must want her so much more.'

'That's right---quite right to keep up before her. It does not soundto me so bad, after all; perhaps they will telegraph again to stopher. Did Claude ask her to come out?'

'Oh no! There were only those few words.'

No more could be learnt till the pony stopped at the door, and Halran out to hand out his aunt, and beg her privately to persuade hismother to take him, or, if she would not consent to that, at least tohave Macrae, the old soldier-servant, with her---it was not fit forher to travel alone.

Lady Merrifield looked very pale, and squeezed her sister close inher arms as she said---

'You are my great help, Jenny.'

'And must you go?'

'Yes, certainly.'

'Without waiting to hear more?'

'There is no use in losing time. I cannot cross from Folkestone tillthe day after to-morrow, at night. I must go to London to-morrow,and sleep at Mrs. Merrifield's.'

'But this does not seem to me so very bad.'

'Oh, no, no! but when I get there in three weeks' time, it will bejust when I shall be most wanted. The nursing will have told on thegirls, and Jasper will be feeling weary of being laid up, and wantingto take liberties.'

'And what will you be after such a journey?'

'Just up to keeping him in order. Come, you have too much sense toexpostulate, Jenny.'

'No; you would wear yourself to fiddle-strings if you stayed at home.I only want you to take Hal, or Macrae.'

'Hal is out of the question, I would not interfere with hispreparation on any account. Macrae would be a very costly article;and, moreover, I want him to act major-domo here, unless you would,and that I don't dare to hope for.'

'No, you must not, Lily; Ada never feels well here, nor always atBrighton, and Emily would be too nervous to have her without me.But we will take as many children as you please, or we have roomfor.'

'That is like you, Jenny. I know William will offer to take them inat home, but I cannot send them without Miss Vincent; and she cannotleave her mother, who has had a sort of stroke. Otherwise I shouldtry leaving them here while I am away, but the poor old lady is in nostate for it---in fact, I doubt her living long.'

'I know; you have been governess by yourself these last weeks; itwill be well to relieve her. The best way will be for us to takeMysie and Valetta, and let them go to the High School; and there is acapital day-school for little boys, close to St. Andrew's, forFergus, and Gillian can go there too, or join classes in whatever shepleases.'

'My Brownie! Have you really room for all those?'

'Oh yes! The three girls in the spare room and dressing-room, andFergus in the little room over the porch. I will write to Fanny; Igave her a hint.'

'And I have no doubt that Primrose will be a delight to her auntAlethea, poor little dear! Yes, that makes it all easy, for in theholidays I know the boys are sure of a welcome at the dear old home,or Hal might have one or two of them at his Curacy.'

The gong sounded for the melancholy dinner that had to go on all thesame, and in the midst all were startled by the arrival of atelegram, which Macrae, looking awestruck, actually delivered toHarry instead of to his mistress; but it was not from Ceylon. It wasfrom Colonel Mohun, from Beechcroft: 'Coming 6.30. Going with you.Send children here.'

Never were twenty words, including addresses, more satisfactory. Thetears came, for the first time, to Lady Merrifield's eyes at thekindness of her brothers, and Harry was quite satisfied that hisuncle would be a far better escort than himself or Macrae. Aunt Janewent off to send her telegram home and write some needful letters,and Lady Merrifield announced her arrangements to those whom theyconcerned.

'That will not do in her mother's state. Mrs. Vincent cannot bemoved up here, and I could not lay such a burthen on them.'

'We would be very good,' said Val.

'That, I hope, you will be any way; but I think it will be easier atRockstone, and I am quite sure that papa and I shall be bettersatisfied about you.'

'Mayn't we take Quiz!' asked Fergus.

'And Rigdum Funnidos?' cried Valetta.

'And Ruff and Ring?' chimed in Mysie.

'My dear children, I don't see how Aunt Jane can be troubled with anymore animals than your four selves. You must ask her, only do not besurprised or put out if she refuses, for I don't believe you can keepanything there.'

Off the three younger ones went, Gillian observing, 'I don't see howthey can, unless it was Quiz; but, mamma, don't you think I might goto Beechcroft with Primrose? I should be so much quieter working forthe examination there, and I could send my exercises to Miss Vincent;and then I should keep up Prim's lessons.'

'Your aunt Alethea will, I know, like doing that, my dear; and I amafraid to turn those creatures loose on the aunts without some one tolook after them and their clothes. Fanny will be very helpful; butit will not do to throw too much on her.'

'Oh! I thought they would have Lois---'

'There would not be room for her; besides that, I don't think itwould suit your aunts. You and Mysie ought to do all the mending foryourselves and Fergus, and what Valetta cannot manage. I know youwould rather be at Beechcroft, my dear; but in this distress anddifficulty, some individual likings must be given up.'

'Yes, mamma.'

Lady Merrifield looked rather dubiously at her daughter. She hadvery little time, and did not want to have an argument, nor to elicitmurmurs, yet it might be better to see what was in Gillian's mindbefore it was too late. Mothers, very fond of their own sisters,cannot always understand why it is not the same with their daughters,who inherit another element of inherited character, and of anothergeneration, and who have not been welded together with the aunts inchildhood. 'My dear,' she said, 'you know I am quite ready to hearif you have any real reasonable objection to this arrangement.'

'No, mamma, I don't think I have,' said Gillian thoughtfully. 'Thenot liking always meeting a lot of strangers, nor the general bustle,is all nonsense, I know quite well. I see it is best for thechildren, but I should like to know exactly who is to be in authorityover them.'

'Certainly Aunt Jane,' replied Lady Merrifield. 'She must be theultimate authority. Of course you will check the younger ones inanything going wrong, as you would here, and very likely there willbe more restrictions. Aunt Ada has to be considered, and it will bea town life; but remember that your aunt is mistress of the house,and that even if you do think her arrangements uncalled for, it isyour duty to help the others to submit cheerfully. Say anything youplease fully and freely in your letters to me, but don't let there beany collisions of authority. Jane will listen kindly, I know, inprivate to any representation you may like to make, but to say beforethe children, "Mamma always lets them," would be most mischievous.'

'I see,' said Gillian. 'Indeed, I will do my best, mamma, and itwill not be for very long.'

'I hope and trust not, my dear child. Perhaps we shall all meet byEaster---papa, and all; but you must not make too sure. There may bedelays. Now I must see Halfpenny. I cannot talk to you any more, myGillyflower, though I am leaving volumes unsaid.

Gillian found Aunt Jane emerging from her room, and beset by herthree future guests.

'Aunt Jane, may we bring Quiz?'

'And Rigdum Funnidos and Lady Rigdum?'

'And Ruff and Ring? They are the sweetest doves in the world.'

'Doves! Oh, Mysie, they would drive your aunt Ada distracted, withcoo-roo-roo at four o'clock in the morning, just as she goes off tosleep.'

'The Rigdums make no noise but a dear little chirp,' triumphantlyexclaimed Valetta.

'Do you mean the kittens? We have a vacancy for one cat, you know.'

Oh yes, we want you to choose between Artaxerxes and the Sofy. Butthe Rigdums are the eldest pair of guinea-pigs. They are so fond ofme, that I know poor old Funnidos will die of grief if I go away andleave him.'

'I sincerely hope not, Valetta, for, indeed, there is no place to puthim in.'

'I don't think he would mind living in the cellar if he only saw meonce a day,' piteously pleaded Valetta.

'Indeed, Val, the dark and damp would surely kill the poor thing, inspite of your attentions. You must make up your mind to separationfrom your pets, excepting the kitten.'

Valetta burst out crying at this last drop that made the bucketoverflow, but Fergus exclaimed: 'Quiz! Aunt Jane! He always goesabout with us, and always behaves like a gentleman, don't you,Quizzy?' and the little Maltese, who perfectly well understood thatthere was trouble in the air, sat straight up, crossed his paws, andlooked touchingly wistful.

'Poor dear little fellow!' said Aunt Jane; 'yes, I knew he would begood, but Kunz would be horribly, jealous, you see; he is an onlydog, and can't bear to have his premises invaded.'

'He ought to be taught better,' said Fergus gravely.

'So he ought,' Aunt Jane confessed; 'but he is too old to beginlearning, and Aunt Ada and Mrs. Mount would never bear to see himdisturbed. Besides, I really do not think Quiz would be half so welloff there as among his own friends and places here, with Macrae totake care of him.' Then as Fergus began to pucker his face, sheadded, 'I am really very sorry to be so disagreeable.'

'The children must not be unreasonable,' said Gillian sagely, as shecame up.

'And I am to choose between Xerxes and Artaxerxes, is it?' said AuntJane.

'No, the Sofy,' said Mysie. 'A Sofy is a Persian philosopher, andthis kitten has got the wisest face.'

'Run and fetch them,' suggested her aunt, 'and then we can choose.Oh,' she added, with some relief at the thought, 'if it is an objectto dispose of Cockie, we could manage him.'

The two younger ones were gratified, but Gillian and Mysie bothexclaimed that Cockie's exclusive affections were devoted to Macrae,and that they could not answer for his temper under the separation.To break up such a household was decidedly the Goose, Fox, andCabbage problem. As Mysie observed, in the course of the search forthe kittens, in the make-the-best-of-it tone, 'It was not so bad asthe former moves, when they were leaving a place for good and all.'

'Ah, but no place was ever so good as this,' said poor Valetta.

'Don't be such a little donkey,' said Fergus consequentially. 'Don'tyou know we are going to school, and I am three years younger thanWilfred was?'

'It is only a petticoat school,' said Val, 'kept by ladies.'

'It isn't.'

'It is; I heard Harry say so.'

'And yours is all butchers and bakers and candlestick makers.'

On which they fell on each other, each with a howl of defiance.Fergus grabbed at Val's pigtail, and she was buffeting him vehementlywhen Harry came out, held them apart, and demanded if this were theway to make their mother easy in leaving them.

'She said it was a pet-pet-petticoat school,' sobbed Fergus.

'And so it ought to be, for boys that fight with girls.'

'And he said mine was all butchers and bakers and candlestickmakers,' whined Valetta.

'Then you'd better learn manners, or they'll take you for a tramp,'observed Harry; but at that moment Mysie broke in with a shout athaving discovered the kittens making a plaything of the best librarypen-wiper, their mother, the sleek Begum, abetting them, and theywere borne off to display the coming glories of their deep fur toAunt Jane.

Her choice fell upon the Sofy, as much because of the convenience ofthe name as because of the preternatural wisdom of expressionimparted by the sweep of the black lines on the gray visage. Mr.Pollock's landlady was to be the happy possessor of Artaxerxes, andthe turbulent portion of the Household was disposed of to bear himthither, and to beg Miss Hacket to give Buff and Ring the run of hercage, whence they had originally come, also to deliver variousmessages and notes.

By the time they returned, Colonel Mohun was met in the hall by hissister. 'Oh, Reggie, it is too good in you!' were the words thatcame with her fervent kiss. 'Remember how many years I have beenseasoned to being "cockit up on a baggage waggon." Ought not such anold soldier as I to be able to take care of myself?'

'And what would your husband say to you when you got there? Andshould not I catch it from William? Well, are you packing up theyouthful family for Beechcroft, except that at Rotherwood they areshrieking for Mysie?'

'I know how good William and Alethea would be. This child,' pointingto Primrose, who had been hanging on her all day in silence, 'is togo to them; but as I can't send Miss Vincent, educational advantages,as the advertisements say, lie on the side of Rockstone; so Jennyhere undertakes to be troubled with the rabble.'

'But Mysie? Rotherwood met me at the station and begged me to obtainher from you. They really wish it.'

'He does, I have no doubt.'

'So does Madame la Marquise. They have been anxious about littlePhyllis all the summer. She was languid and off her feed in London,and did not pick up at home as they expected. My belief is that itis too much governess and too little play, and that a fortnight herewould set her up again. Rotherwood himself thinks so, and Victoriahas some such inkling. At any rate, they are urgent to have Mysiewith the child, as the next best thing.'

'Poor dear little Fly!' ejaculated Lady Merrifield; 'but I am afraidMysie was not very happy there last year.'

'And what would be the effect of all the overdoing?' said Miss Mohun.

'Mysie is tougher than that sprite, and I suppose there is somerelaxation,' said Lady Merrifield.

'Yes; the doctors have frightened them sufficiently for the present.

'I suppose Mysie is a prescription, poor child,' said her aunt, in atone that evoked from her brother---

'Jealous, Jenny?'

'Well, Jane,' said Lady Merrifield, 'you know how thankful I am toyou and Ada, but I am inclined to let it depend on the letters I getto-morrow, and the way Victoria takes it. If it is really an earnestwish on that dear little Fly's account, I could not withstand oldRotherwood, and though Mysie might be less happy than she would bewith you, I do not think any harm will be done. Everything there issound and conscientious, and if she picks up a little polish, itwon't hurt her.'

'Shall you give her the choice?'

'I see no good in rending the poor child's mind between twoaffections, especially as there will be a very short time to decidein, for I shall certainly not send her if Victoria's is a mere dutyletter.'

'You are quite right there, Lily,' said the Colonel. 'The lesschoice the greater comfort.'

'Well done, sir soldier,' said his sister Jane. 'I say quite righttoo; only, for my own sake, I wish it had been Valetta.'

'So no doubt does she,' said the mother; 'but unluckily it isn't.And, indeed, I don't think I wish it. Val is safer with you. AsGillian expressed it the other day, "Val does right when she likesit; Mysie does right when she knows it."'

'You have the compliment after all, Jane,' said the Colonel. 'Lilytrusts you with the child she doesn't trust!'

There was no doubt the next morning, for Lady Rotherwood wrote anearnest, affectionate letter, begging for Mysie, who, she said, hadwon such golden opinions in her former visit that it would be a realbenefit to Phyllis, as much morally as physically, to have hercompanionship. It was the tenderest letter that either of thesisters had ever seen from the judicious and excellent Marchioness,full of warm sympathy for Lady Merrifield's anxiety for her husband,and betraying much solicitude for her little girl.

'It has done her good,' said Jane Mohun. 'I did not think she hadsuch a soft spot.'

'Poor Victoria,' said Lady Merrifield, 'that is a shame. You knowshe is an excellent mother.'

'Too excellent, that's the very thing,' muttered Aunt Jane. 'Well,Mysie's fate is settled, and I dare say it will turn out for thebest.'

So Mysie was to go with Mrs. Halfpenny and Primrose to Beechcroft,whence the Rotherwoods would fetch her. If the lady's letter hadbeen much less urgent, who could have withstood her lord'spostscript: 'If you could see the little pale face light up at thebare notion of seeing Mysie, you would know how grateful we shall befor her.'

Mysie herself heard her destiny without much elation, though she wasvery fond of Lady Phyllis, and the tears came into her eyes at thethought of her being unwell and wanting her.

'Mamma said we must not grumble,' she said to Gillian; 'but I shallfeel so lost without you and Val. It is so unhomish, and there'sthat dreadful German Fraulein, who was not at home last time.'

'If you told mamma, perhaps she would let you stay,' returnedGillian. 'I know I should hate it, worse than I do going toRockstone and without you.'

'That would be unkind to poor Fly,' said Mysie. 'Besides, mamma saidshe could not have settling and unsettling for ever. And I shall seePrimrose sometimes; besides, I do love Fly. It's marching orders,you know.'

It was Valetta who made the most objection. She declared that it wasnot fair that Mysie, who had been to the ball at Rotherwood, shouldgo again to live with lords and ladies, while she went to a nastyday-school with butchers' and bakers' daughters. She hoped sheshould grow horridly vulgar, and if mamma did not like it, it wouldbe her own fault!

Mrs. Halfpenny, who did not like to have to separate Mysie's clothesfrom the rest after they were packed, rather favoured thisnaughtiness by observing: 'The old blue merino might stay at home.Miss Mysie would be too set up to wear that among her fine folk. Sether up, that she should have all the treats, while her own MissGillian was turned over to the auld aunties!'

'Nonsense, nurse,' said Gillian. 'I'm much better pleased to go andbe of some use! Val, you naughty child, how dare you make such afuss?' for Valetta was crying again.

'I hate school, and I hate Rockstone, and I don't see why Mysieshould always go everywhere, and wear new frocks, and I go to thebutchers and bakers and wear horrid old ones.'

'I wish you could come too,' said Mysie; 'but indeed old frocks arethe nicest, because one is not bothered to take so much care of them;and lords and ladies aren't a bit better to play with than, otherpeople. In fact, Ivy is what Japs calls a muff and a stick.'

Valetta, however, cried on, and Mysie went the length of repairing toher mother, in the midst of her last notes and packings, to entreatto change with Val, who followed on tip-toe.

'Certainly not,' was the answer from Lady Merrifield, who was beingworried on all sides, 'Valetta is not asked, and she is not behavingso that I could accept for her if she were.'

And Val had to turn away in floods of tears, which redoubled on beingtold by the united voices of her brothers and sisters that they wereashamed of her for being so selfish as to cry for herself when allwere in so much trouble about papa.

Lady Merrifield caught some of the last words. 'No, my dear,' shesaid. 'That is not quite just or kind. It is being unhappy thatmakes poor Val so ready to cry about her own grievances. Only, Val,come here, and remember that fretting is not the way to meet suchthings. There is a better way, my child, and I think you know what Imean. Now, to help you through the time in an outer way, suppose youeach set yourself some one thing to improve in while I am away.Don't tell me what it is, but let me find out when I come home.'With that she obeyed an urgent summons to speak to the gardener.

'I shall! I shall,' cried little Primrose, 'write a whole copy-bookin single lines! And won't mamma be pleased? What shall you do,Fergus? and Val? and Mysie?'

'I shall get to spin my peg-top so as it will never tumble down, andwill turn an engine for drawing water,' was the prompt answer ofFergus.

'That you had!' said several voices, and Val very nearly cried againas she exclaimed: 'Don't be all so tiresome. I shall make mamma abeautiful crewel cushion, with all the battles in history on it. Andwon't she be surprised!'

'I think mamma meant more than that,' said Mysie.

'Oh, Mysie, what shall you do?' asked Primrose.

'I did think of getting to translate one of mamma's favourite Germanstories quite through to her without wanting the dictionary orstumbling one bit,' said Mysie; 'but I am sure she meant somethingbetter and better, and I'm thinking what it is---Perhaps it is makingall little Flossie Maddin's clothes, a whole suit all oneself---Orperhaps it is manners. What do you think, Gill?'

'I should say most likely it was manners for you,' volunteered Harry,'and the extra you are most likely to acquire at Rotherwood.'

'I'm so glad,' said Mysie.

'And you, Gill,' inquired Primrose, 'what will you do? Mine is acopy-book, and Fergus's is the spinning-top-engines, and rule ofthree; and Val's is a crewel battle cushion and not crying; andMysie's is German stories and manners; and what's yours, Gill?'

'Gill is so grown up, she is too good to want an inside thing'announced Primrose.

'Oh, Prim, you dear little thing,' cried both elder brother andsister, as they thought with a sort of pang of the child's opinion ofgrown-up impeccability.

'Harry is grown up more,' put in Fergus; 'why don't you ask him?'

'Because I know,' said Primrose, with a pretty shyness, and as theypressed her, she whispered, 'He is going to be a clergyman.'

There was a call for Mysie and Val from upstairs, and as the youngerpopulation scampered off, Gillian said to her brother---

'Is not it like "occupy till I come"?'

'So I was thinking,' said Harry gravely. 'But one must be as youngas Mysie to throw one's "inside things" into the general stock ofresolutions.'

'Yes,' said Gillian, with uplifted eyes. 'I do---I do hope to dosomething.'

Some great thing was her unspoken thought---some great and excellentachievement to be laid before her mother on her return. There was atale begun in imitation of Bessie Merrifield, called "Hilda'sExperiences". Suppose that was finished, printed, published,splendidly reviewed. Would not that be a great thing? But alas, shewas under a tacit engagement never to touch it in the hours of study.

CHAPTER II. ROCKQUAY

The actual moment of a parting is often softened by the confusion ofdeparture. That of the Merrifield family took place at the junction,where Lady Merrifield with her brother remained in the train, to becarried on to London.

Gillian, Valetta, and Fergus, with their aunt, changed into a trainfor Rockstone, and Harry was to return to his theological college,after seeing Mysie and Primrose off with nurse on their way to theancestral Beechcroft, whence Mysie was to be fetched to Rotherwood.The last thing that met Lady Merrifield's eyes was Mrs. Halfpennygesticulating wildly, under the impression that Mysie's box was goingoff to London.

And Gillian's tears were choked in the scurry to avoid a smoking-carriage, while Harry could not help thinking---half blaming himselffor so doing---that Mysie expended more feeling in parting with Sofy,the kitten, than with her sisters, not perceiving that pussy was thesafety-valve for the poor child's demonstrations of all the sorrowthat was oppressing her.

Gillian, in the corner of a Rockstone carriage, had time for the fullheart-sickness and tumult of fear that causes such acute suffering toyoung hearts. It is quite a mistake to say that youth suffers lessfrom apprehension than does age; indeed, the very inexperience andnovelty add to the alarms, where there is no background of anxietiesthat have ended happily, only a crowd of examples of other people'smisfortunes. The difference is in the greater elasticity and powerof being distracted by outward circumstances; and thus lookers-onnever guess at the terrific possibilities that have scared theimagination, and the secret ejaculations that have met them. Howmany times on that brief journey had not Gillian seen her fatherdying, her sisters in despair, her mother crushed in the train,wrecked in the steamer, perishing of the climate, or arriving to findall over and dying of the shock; yet all was varied by speculationson the great thing that was to offer itself to be done, and thedelight it would give, and when the train slackened, anxieties weremerged in the care for bags, baskets, and umbrellas.

Rockstone and Rockquay had once been separate places---a littlevillage perched on a cliff of a promontory, and a small fishinghamlet within the bay, but these had become merged in one, sincefashion had chosen them as a winter resort. Speculators blasted awaysuch of the rocks as they had not covered with lodging-houses anddesirable residences. The inhabitants of the two places had theirseparate churches, and knew their own bounds perfectly well; but tothe casual observer, the chief distinction between them was thatRockstone was the more fashionable, Rockquay the more commercial,although the one had its shops, the other its handsome crescents andvillas. The station was at Rockquay, and there was an uphill driveto reach Rockstone, where the two Miss Mohuns had been earlyinhabitants---had named their cottage Beechcroft after their nativehome, and, to justify the title, had flanked the gate with two copperbeeches, which had attained a fair growth, in spite of sea winds,perhaps because sheltered by the house on the other side.

The garden reached out to the verge of the cliff, or rather to a lowwall, with iron rails and spikes at the top, and a narrow, rathergiddy path beyond. There was a gate in the wall, the key of whichAunt Jane kept in her own pocket, as it gave near access to certainrocky steps, about one hundred and thirty in number, by which, whenin haste, the inhabitants of Rockstone could descend to the lowerregions of the Quay.

There was a most beautiful sea-view from the house, which compensatedfor difficulties in gardening in such a situation, though a veryslight slope inwards from the verge of the cliff gave some protectionto the flower-beds; and there was not only a little conservatoryattached to the drawing-room at the end, but the verandah had glassshutters, which served the purpose of protecting tender plants, andalso the windows, from the full blast of the winter storms. MissMohun was very proud of these shutters, which made a winter garden ofthe verandah for Miss Adeline to take exercise in. The house wastheir own, and, though it aimed at no particular beauty, had grownpleasant and pretty looking by force of being lived in and madecomfortable.

It was a contrast to its neighbours on either side of its pink andgray limestone wall. On one side began the grounds of the GreatRockstone Hotel; on the other was Cliff House, the big and seldom-inhabited house of one of the chief partners in the marble works,which went on on the other side of the promontory, and some peoplesaid would one day consume Rockstone altogether. It was a very finehouse, and the gardens were reported to be beautifully kept up, butthe owner was almost always in Italy, and had so seldom been atRockstone that it was understood that all this was the ostentation ofa man who did not know what to do with his money.

Aunt Adeline met the travellers at the door with her charmingwelcome. Kunz, all snowy white, wagged his tight-curled tail amidhis barks, at sight of Aunt Jane, but capered wildly about the Sofy'sbasket, much to Valetta's agony; while growls, as thunderous as asmall kitten could produce, proceeded therefrom.

'Kunz, be quiet,' said Aunt Jane, in a solemn, to-be-minded voice,and he crouched, blinking up with his dark eye.

'Give me the basket. Now, Kunz, this is our cat. Do you hear? Youare not to meddle with her.'

'M-m-m-m-ps-pss-psss!' from the Sofy, two screams from Val andFergus, a buffeting of paws, a couple of wild bounds, first on achair-back, then on the mantelpiece, where, between the bronzecandlestick and the vase, the Persian philosopher stood hissing andswearing, while Kunz danced about and barked.

'Take her down, Gillian,' said Aunt Jane; and Gillian, who had somepresence of mind, accomplished it with soothing words, and, thanks toher gloves, only one scratch.

Meantime Miss Mohun caught up Kunz, held up her finger to him,stopped his barks; and then, in spite of the 'Oh, don'ts,' and eventhe tears of Valetta, the two were held up---black nose to pink nose,with a resolute 'Now, you are to behave well to each other, from AuntJane.

Kunz sniffed, the Sofy hissed; but her claws were captive. The dogwas the elder and more rational, and when set down again took no morenotice of his enemy, whom Valetta was advised to carry into Mrs.Mount's quarters to be comforted and made at home there; the unitedvoice of the household declaring that the honour of the Spitz was asspotless as his coat!

Such was the first arrival at Rockstone, preceding even AuntAdeline's inquiries after Mysie, and the full explanation of theparticulars of the family dispersion. Aunt Ada's welcome was not atall like that of Kunz. She was very tender and caressing, andrejoiced that her sister could trust her children to her. Theyshould all get on most happily together, she had no doubt.

True-hearted as Gillian was, there was something hopeful andrefreshing in the sight of that fair, smiling face, and the touch ofthe soft hand, in the room that was by no means unfamiliar, thoughshe had never slept in the house before. It was growing dark, andthe little fire lighted it up in a friendly manner. Wherever AuntJane was, everything was neat; wherever Aunt Adeline was, everythingwas graceful. Gillian was old enough to like the general prettiness;but it somewhat awed Val and Fergus, who stood straight and shy tillthey were taken upstairs. The two girls had a very pretty room anddressing-room---the guest chamber, in fact; and Fergus was not faroff, in a small apartment which, as Val said, 'stood on legs,' andformed the shelter of the porch.

'But, oh dear! oh dear!' sighed Val, as Gillian unpacked theirevening garments, 'Isn't there any nice place at all where one canmake a mess?'

'I don't know whether the aunts will ever let us make a mess,' saidGillian; 'they don't look like it.'

At which Valetta's face puckered up in the way only too familiar toher friends.

'Come, don't be silly, Val. You won't have much time, you know; youwill go to school, and get some friends to play with, and not want tomake messes here.'

'I hate friends!'

'Oh, Val!'

'All but Fly, and Mysie is gone to her. I want Mysie.'

So in truth did Gillian, almost as much as her mother. Her heartsank as she thought of having Val and Fergus to save from scrapeswithout Mysie's readiness and good humour. If Mysie were but thereshe should be free for her 'great thing.' And oh! above all, Val'shair---the brown bush that Val had a delusion that she 'did' herself,but which her 'doing' left looking rather worse than it did before,and which was not permitted in public to be in the convenient tail.Gillian advanced on her with the brush, but she tossed it anddeclared it all right!

However, at that moment there was a knock. Mrs. Mount's kindly faceand stout form appeared. She had dressed Miss Ada and came to seewhat she could do for the young people, being of that delightfulclass of old servants who are charmed to have anything young in thehouse, especially a boy. She took Valetta's refractory mane in hand,tied her sash, inspected Fergus's hands, which had succeeded ingetting dirty in their inevitable fashion, and undertook all theunpacking and arranging. To Val's inquiry whether there was anyplace for making 'a dear delightful mess' she replied with a curiouslittle friendly smile, and wonder that a young lady should want sucha thing.

'I'm afraid we are all rather strange specimens of young ladies,'replied Gillian; 'very untidy, I mean.'

'What's that? What am I to say?' asked Aunt Jane, coming into theroom.

But, after all, Aunt Jane proved to have more sympathy with 'messes'than any of the others. She knew very well that the children wouldbe far less troublesome if they had a place to themselves, and shesaid, 'Well, Val, you shall have the boxroom in the attics. Andmind, you must keep all your goods there, both of you. If I findthem about the house, I shall---'

'Oh, what, Aunt Jane?'

'Confiscate them,' was the reply, in a very awful voice, whichimpressed Fergus the more because he did not understand the word.

'You need not look so much alarmed, Fergus,' said Gillian; 'you arenot at all the likely one to transgress.'

'No,' said Valetta gravely. 'Fergus is what Lois calls a regular oldbattledore.'

'I won't be called names,' exclaimed Fergus.

'Well, Lois said so---when you were so cross because the poker had goton the same side as the tongs! She said she never saw such an oldbattledore, and you know how all the others took it up.'

'Shuttlecock yourself then!' angrily responded Fergus, while bothaunt and sister were laughing too much to interfere.

'I shall call you a little Uncle Maurice instead,' said Aunt Jane.'How things come round! Perhaps you would not believe, Gill, thatAunt Ada was once in a scrape, when she was our Mrs. Malaprop, forapplying that same epithet on hearsay to Maurice.'

This laugh made Gillian feel more at home with her aunt, and theywent up happily together for the introduction to the lumber-room, nota very spacious place, and with a window leading out to the leads.Aunt Jane proceeded to put the children on their word of honour notto attempt to make an exit thereby, which Gillian thoughtunnecessary, since this pair were not enterprising.

The evening went off happily. Aunt Jane produced one of the oldgames which had been played at the elder Beechcroft, and had acertain historic character in the eyes of the young people. It wasone of those variations of the Game of the Goose that were once heldto be improving, and their mother had often told them how the familyhad agreed to prove whether honesty is really the best policy, andhow it had been agreed that all should cheat as desperately aspossible, except 'honest Phyl,' who _couldn't_; and how, by someextraordinary combination, good for their morals, she actually wasthe winner. It was immensely interesting to see the identical much-worn sheet of dilapidated pictures with the padlock, almost close tothe goal, sending the counter back almost to the beginning in searchof the key. Still more interesting was the imitation, "in verywonderful drawing, devised by mamma, of the career of a true knight---from pagedom upwards---in pale watery Prussian-blue armour, a crimsonscarf, vermilion plume, gamboge spurs, and very peculiar arms andlegs. But, as Valetta observed, it must have been much moreinteresting to draw such things as that than stupid freehand linesand twists with no sense at all in them.

Aunt Ada, being subject to asthmatic nights, never came down tobreakfast, and, indeed, it was at an hour that Gillian thoughtfearfully early; but her Aunt Jane was used to making every hour ofthe day available, and later rising would have prevented the twochildren from being in time for the schools, to which they were to goon the Monday. Some of Aunt Jane's many occupations on Saturdayconsisted in arranging with the two heads of their respectiveschools, and likewise for the mathematical class Gillian was to joinat the High School two mornings in the week, and for her lessons onthe organ, which were to be at St. Andrew's Church. Somehow Gillianfelt as if she were as entirely in her aunt's hands as Kunz and theSofy had been!

After the early dinner, which suited the invalid's health, Aunt Janesaid she would take Valetta and Fergus to go down to the beach withthe little Varleys, while she went to her district, leaving Gillianto read to Aunt Ada for half an hour, and then to walk with her for aquiet turn on the beach.

It was an amusing article in a review that Gillian was set to read,and she did it so pleasantly that her aunt declared that she lookedforward to many such afternoon pastimes, and then, by an easier waythan the hundred and a half steps, they proceeded down the hill, theaunt explaining a great deal to the niece in a manner very gratifyingto a girl beginning to be admitted to an equality with grown-uppeople.

'There is our old church,' said Aunt Ada, as they had a glimpse of agray tower with a curious dumpy steeple.

'Do you go to church there!'

'I do---always. I could not undertake the hill on Sundays; but Janetakes the school-children to the St. Andrew's service in theafternoon.'

'But which is the parish church?'

'In point of fact, my dear; it is all one parish. Good morning, Mr.Hablot. My niece, Miss Gillian Merrifield. Yes, my sister is comehome. I think she will be at the High School. He is the vicar ofSt. Andrew's,' as the clergyman went off in the direction of thesteps.

'I thought you said it was all one parish.'

'St. Andrew's is only a district. Ah, it was all before your time,my dear.'

'Yes, my dear. It was the great work and thought with him and LordRotherwood in those days that look so bright now,' said Aunt Ada.'Yes, and with us all.'

'Do tell me all about it,' entreated Gillian; and her aunt, nothingloth, went on.

'Dear Claude was only five-and-twenty when he had the living. Nobodywould take it, it was such a neglected place. All Rockquay downthere had grown up with only the old church, and nobody going to it.It was a great deal through Rotherwood. Some property here came tohim, and he was shocked at the state of things. Then we all thoughtthe climate might be good for dear Claude, and Jane came to live withhim and help him, and look after him. You see there were a greatmany of us, and Jane---well, she didn't quite get on with Alethea, andClaude thought she wanted a sphere of her own, and that is the wayshe comes to have more influence than any one else here. And as I amalways better in this air than anywhere else, I came soon after---evenbefore my dear fathers death. And oh! what an eager, hopeful time itwas, setting everything going, and making St. Andrew's all we couldwish! We were obliged to be cautious at the old church, you know,because of not alarming the old-fashioned people. And so we arestill---'

'Is that St. Andrew's? Oh, it is beautiful. May I look in?'

'Not now, my dear. You will see it another time.'

'I wish it were our church.'

'You will find the convenience of having one so near. And ourservices are very nice with our present rector, Mr. Ellesmere, anexcellent active man, but his wife is such an invalid that all thework falls on Jane. I am so glad you are here to help her a little.St. Andrew's has a separate district, and Mr. Hablot is the vicar;but as it is very poor, we keep the charities all in one. Rotherwoodbuilt splendid schools, so we only have an infant school for theRockstone children. On Sunday, Jane assembles the older childrenthere and takes them to church; but in the afternoon they all go tothe National Schools, and then to a children's service at St.Andrew's. She gets on so well with Mr. Hablot---he was dear Claude'scurate, you see, and little Mrs. Hablot was quite a pupil of ours.What do you think little Gerald Hablot said---he is only five---"Isn'tMiss Mohun the most consultedest woman in Rockquay?"'

'I suppose it is true,' said Gillian, laughing, but rather awestruck.

'I declare it makes me quite giddy to count up all she has on herhands. Nobody can do anything without her. There are so fewpermanent inhabitants, and when people begin good works, they goaway, or marry, or grow tired, and then we can't let them drop!'

'Oh! what's that pretty spire, on the rise of the other hill?'

'My dear, that was the Kennel Mission Chapel, a horrid little hideousiron thing, but Lady Flight mistook and called it St. Kenelm's, andSt. Kenelm's it will be to the end of the chapter.' And as sheexchanged bows with a personage in a carriage, 'There she is, mydear.'

'Who? Did she build that church?'

'It is not consecrated. It really is only a mission chapel, and heis nothing but a curate of Mr. Hablot's,' said Aunt Ada, Gillianthought a little venomously.

She asked, 'Who?'

'The Reverend Augustine Flight, my dear. I ought not to say anythingagainst them, I am sure, for they mean to be very good; but she issome City man's widow, and he is an only son, and they have moremoney than their brains can carry. They have made that little placevery beautiful, quite oppressed with ornament---City taste, you know,and they have all manner of odd doings there, which Mr. Hablotallows, because he says he does not like to crush zeal, and he thinksinterference would do more harm than good. Jane thinks he ought notto stand so much, but---'

Gillian somehow felt a certain amusement and satisfaction in findingthat Aunt Jane had one disobedient subject, but they were interruptedby two ladies eagerly asking where to find Miss Mohun, and a fewsteps farther on a young clergyman accosted them, and begged thatMiss Mohun might be told the hour of some meeting. Also that 'theBellevue Church people would not co-operate in the coal club.'

Then it was explained that Bellevue Church was within the bounds ofanother parish, and had been built by, and for, people who did notlike the doctrine at the services of St. Andrew's.

By this time aunt and niece had descended to the Marine esplanade, abroad road, on one side of which there was a low sea wall, and thenthe sands and rocks stretched out to the sea, on the other a broadspace of short grass, where there was a cricket ground, and a lawn-tennis ground, and the volunteers could exercise, and the band playedtwice a week round a Russian gun that stood by the flagstaff.

The band was playing now, and the notes seemed to work on Gillian'sfeet, and yet to bring her heart into her throat, for the last timeshe had heard that march was from the band of her father's oldregiment, when they were all together!

Her aunt was very kind, and talked to her affectionately andencouragingly of the hopes that her mother would find her fatherrecovering, and that it would turn out after all quite an expeditionof pleasure and refreshment. Then she said how much she rejoiced tohave Gillian with her, as a companion to herself, while her sisterwas so busy, and she was necessarily so much left alone.

'We will read together, and draw, and play duets, and have quite agood account of our employment to give,' she said, smiling.

'I shall like it very much,' said Gillian heartily.

'Dear child, the only difficulty will be that you will spoil me, andI shall never be able to part with you. Besides, you will be such ahelp to my dear Jane. She never spares herself, you know, and no oneever spares her, and I can do so little to help her, except with myhead.'

'Surely here are plenty of people,' said Gillian, for they were inthe midst of well-dressed folks, and Aunt Ada had more than onceexchanged nods and greetings.

'Quite true, my dear; but when there is anything to be done, thenthere is a sifting! But now we have you, with all our own Lily'sspirit, I shall be happy about Jane for this winter at least.

They were again interrupted by meeting a gentleman and lady, to whomGillian was introduced, and who walked on with her aunt conversing.They had been often in India, and made so light of the journey thatGillian was much cheered. Moreover, she presently came in sight ofVal and Fergus supremely happy over a castle on the beach, andevidently indoctrinating the two little Varleys with some of thedramatic sports of Silverfold.

Aunt Ada found another acquaintance, a white moustached oldgentleman, who rose from a green bench in a sunny corner, saying,'Ah, Miss Mohun, I have been guarding your seat for you.'

'Thank you, Major Dennis. My niece, Miss Merrifield.'

He seemed to be a very courteous old gentleman, for he bowed, andmade some polite speech about Sir Jasper, and, as he was military,Gillian hoped to have heard some more about the journey when they satdown, and room was made for her; but instead of that he and her auntbegan a discussion of the comings and goings of people she had neverheard of, and the letting or not letting of half the villas inRockstone; and she found it so dull that she had a great mind to goand join the siege of Sandcastle. Only her shoes and her dress werefitter for the esplanade than the shore with the tide coming in; andwhen one has just begun to buy one's own clothes, that is aconsideration.

At last she saw Aunt Jane's trim little figure come out on the sandsand make as straight for the children as she could, amid greetingsand consultations, so with an exclamation, she jumped up and wentover the shingle to meet them, finding an endeavour going on to makethem tolerably respectable for the walk home, by shaking off thesand, and advising Val to give up her intention of dragging home abroad brown ribbon of weed with a frilled edge, all polished andshiny with wet. She was not likely to regard it as such a curiosityafter a few days' experience of Rockquay, as her new friends toldher.

Kitty Varley went to the High School, which greatly modifiedValetta's disgust to it, for the little girls had already vowed to bethe greatest chums in the world, and would have gone home with armsentwined, if Aunt Jane had not declared that such things could not bedone in the street, and Clem Varley, with still more effect,threatened that if they were such a pair of ninnies, he should squirtat them with the dirtiest water he could find.

Valetta had declared that she infinitely preferred Kitty to Fly, andKitty was so flattered at being adopted by the second cousin of aLady Phyllis, and the daughter of a knight, that she exalted Valabove all the Popsys and Mopsys of her present acquaintance, and atparting bestowed on her a chocolate cream, which tasted about equallyof salt water and hot hand---at least if one did not feel it atestimonial of ardent friendship.

Fergus and Clement had, on the contrary, been so much inclined topunch and buffet one another, that Miss Mohun had to make them walkbefore her to keep the peace, and was by no means sorry when the gateof 'The Tamarisks' was reached, and the Varleys could be disposed of.

However, the battery must have been amicable, for Fergus was crazy togo in and see Clement's little pump, which he declared 'would do it'---an enigmatical phrase supposed to refer to the great peg-top-perpetual-motion invention. He was dragged away with difficulty onthe plea of its being too late by Aunt Jane, who could not quite turntwo unexpected children in on Mrs. Varley, and had to effect a cruelseverance of Val and Kitty in the midst of their kisses.

'Sudden friendships,' said Gillian, from the superiority of her age.

'I do not think you are given that way,' said Aunt Jane.

'Does the large family suffice for all of you? People are sodifferent,' added Aunt Ada.

'Yes,' said Gillian. 'We have never been in the way of caring forany outsider. I don't reckon Bessie Merrifield so---nor Fly Devereux,nor Dolores, because they are cousins.'

'Cousins may be everything or nothing,' asserted Miss Mohun. 'Youhave been about so much that you have hardly had time to formintimacies. But had you no friends in the officers' families?'

'People always retired before their children grew up to becompanionable, said Gillian. 'There was nobody except the Whites.And that wasn't exactly friendship.'

'Who were they?' said Aunt Jane, who always liked to know all abouteverybody.

'He rose from the ranks,' said Gillian. 'He was very much respected,and nobody would have known that he was not a gentleman to beginwith. But his wife was half a Greek. Papa said she had been verypretty; but, oh! she had grown so awfully fat. We used to call herthe Queen of the White Ants. Then Kally---her name was reallyKalliope---was very nice, and mamma got them to send her to a goodday-school at Dublin, and Alethea and Phyllis used to have her in totry to make a lady of her. There used to be a great deal of funabout their Muse, I remember; Claude thought her very pretty, andalways stood up for her, and Alethea was very fond of her. But soonafter we went to Belfast, Mr. White was made to retire with the rankof captain. I think papa tried to get something for him to do; but Iam not sure whether he succeeded, and I don't know any more aboutthem.'

And Gillian thought---though she felt it would be too sentimental tosay---that in her life, persons and scenes outside her own family hadseemed to 'come like shadows and so depart'; and there was a generalsense of depression at the partings, the anxiety, and the beingunsettled again when she was just beginning to have a home.

CHAPTER III. PERPETUAL MOTION

If Fergus had not yet discovered the secret of perpetual motion,Gillian felt as if Aunt Jane had done so, and moreover that thegreater proportion of parish matters were one vast machine, of whichshe was the moving power.

As she was a small spare woman, able to do with a very moderateamount of sleep, her day lasted from 6 A.M. to some unnamed timeafter midnight; and as she was also very methodical, she got throughan appalling amount of business, and with such regularity that thosewho knew her habits could tell with tolerable certainty, withinreasonable limits, where she would be found and what she would bedoing at any hour of the seven days of the week. Everything sheinfluenced seemed to recur as regularly as the motions of the greatruthless-looking engines that Gillian had seen at work at Belfast;the only loose cog being apparently her sister Adeline, who quietlytook her own way, seldom came downstairs before eleven o'clock, wentout and came in, made visits or received them, wrote letters, readand worked at her own sweet will. Only two undertakings seemed tobelong to her---a mission working party, and an Italian class of youngladies; and even the presidency of these often lapsed upon hersister, when she had had one of those 'bad nights' of asthma, whichwere equally sleepless to both sisters. She was principally usefulby her exquisite needlework, both in church embroidery and for sales;and likewise as the recipient of all the messages left for MissMohun, which she never forgot, besides that, having a clear sensiblehead, she was useful in consultation.

She was thoroughly interested in all her sister's doings, and alwaysspoke of herself as the invalid, precluded from all service exceptthat of being a pivot for Jane, the stationary leg of the compasses,as she sometimes called herself. This repose, together with herprettiness and sweetness of manner, was very attractive; especiallyto Gillian, who had begun to feel herself in the grip of the greatengine which bore her along without power of independent volition,and with very little time for 'Hilda's Experiences'.

At home she had gone on harmoniously in full acquiescence withhousehold arrangements; but before the end of the week the very samesensations came over her which had impelled her and Jasper intorebellion and disgrace, during the brief reign of a very strict dailygoverness, long ago at Dublin. Her reason and sense approved of allthat was set before her, and much of it was pleasant and amusing; butthis was the more provoking by depriving her of the chance ofresistance or the solace of complaint. Moreover, with all her timeat Aunt Jane's disposal, how was she to do her great thing?Valetta's crewel battle cushion had been reduced to a deliciousdesign of the battle of the frogs and mice, drawn by Aunt Ada, andwhich she delighted in calling at full length 'the Batrachyomachia,'sparing none of the syllables which she was to work below. And itwas to be worked at regularly for half an hour before bed-time.Trust Aunt Jane for seeing that any one under her dominion did whathad been undertaken! Only thus the spontaneity seemed to havedeparted, and the work became a task. Fergus meanwhile had set hisaffections on a big Japanese top he had seen in a window, and waseagerly awaiting his weekly threepence, to be able to complete thepurchase, though no one but Valetta was supposed to understand whatit had to do with his 'great thing.'

It was quite pleasant to Gillian to have a legitimate cause ofopposition when Miss Mohun made known that she intended Gillian totake a class at the afternoon Sunday-school, while the two childrenwent to Mrs. Hablot's drawing-room class at St. Andrew's Vicarage,all meeting afterwards at church.

'Did mamma wish it?' asked Gillian.

'There was no time to mention it, but I knew she would.'

'I don't think so,' said Gillian. 'We don't teach on Sundays, unlesssome regular person fails. Mamma likes to have us all at home to doour Sunday work with her.'

'Alas, I am not mamma! Nor could I give you the time.'

'I have brought the books to go on with Val and Ferg. I always dosome of their work with them, and I am sure mamma would not wish themto be turned over to a stranger.'

'The fact is, that young ladies have got beyond Sunday-schools!'

'No, no, Jane,' said her sister; 'Gillian is quite willing to helpyou; but it is very nice in her to wish to take charge of thechildren.'

'They would be much better with Mrs. Hablot than dawdling about hereand amusing themselves in the new Sunday fashion. Mind, I am notgoing to have them racketing about the house and garden, disturbingyou, and worrying the maids.'

'We shall see,' said Aunt Jane; then more kindly, 'My dear, you areright to use your best judgment, and you are welcome to do so, aslong as the children are orderly and learn what they ought.'

It was more of a concession than Gillian expected, though she littleknew the effort it cost, since Miss Mohun had been at much pains toset Mrs. Hablot's class on foot, and felt it a slight and a badexample that her niece and nephew should be defaulters. The motivemight have worked on Gillian, but it was a lower one, thereforementioned.

She had seen Mrs. Hablot at the Italian class, and thought her a meregirl, and an absolute subject of Aunt Jane's stumbling pitifully,moreover, in a speech of Adelchi's; therefore evidently not at alllikely to teach Sunday subjects half so well as herself!

Nor was there anything amiss on that first Sunday. The lessons wereas well and quietly gone through as if with mamma, and there was apleasant little walk on the esplanade before the children's serviceat St. Andrew's; after which there was a delightful introduction tosome of the old books mamma had told them of.

They were all rather subdued by the strangeness and newness of theirsurroundings, as well as by anxiety. If the younger ones were lessanxious about their parents than was their sister, each had a plungeto make on the morrow into a very new world, and the Varleys'information had not been altogether reassuring. Valetta had learnthow many marks might be lost by whispering or bad spelling, and howferociously cross Fraulein Adler looked at a mistake in a Germanverb; while Fergus had heard a dreadful account of the ordeals towhich Burfield and Stebbing made new boys submit, and which would beall the worse for him, because he had a 'rum' Christian name, and hisfather was a swell.

Gillian had some experience through her elder brothers, and suspectedMaster Varley of being guilty of heightening the horrors; so sheassured Fergus that most boys had the same sort of Christian names,but were afraid to confess them to one another, and so called eachother Bill and Jack. She advised him to call himself by his surname,not to mention his father's title if he could help it, and, aboveall, not to seem to mind anything.

Her own spirits were much exhilarated the next morning by a note fromHarry, the recipient of all telegrams, with tidings that the doctorswere quite satisfied with Sir Jasper, and that Lady Merrifield hadreached Brindisi.

There was great excitement at sight of a wet morning, for it appearedthat an omnibus came round on such occasions to pick up the scholars;and Valetta thought this so delightful that she danced aboutexclaiming, 'What fun!' and only wishing for Mysie to share it. Shewould have rushed down to the gate umbrellaless if Aunt Jane had notcaught and conducted her, while Gillian followed with Fergus. AuntJane looked down the vista of young faces---five girls and three boys---nodding to them, and saying to the senior, a tall damsel of fifteen,

'Here are my children, Emma. You will take care of them, please.You are keeping order here, I suppose?'

There was a smile and bow in answer as the door closed, and theomnibus jerked away its ponderous length.

'I'm sorry to see that Stebbing there,' observed the aunt, as shewent back; 'but Emma Norton ought to be able to keep him in order.It is well you have no lessons out of the house to-day, Gillian.'

'Are you going out then?'

'Oh yes!' said Miss Mohun, running upstairs, and presently comingback with a school-bag and a crackling waterproof cloak, but pausingas she saw Gillian at the window, nursing the Sofy, and gazing at thegray cloud over the gray sea. 'You are not at a loss for somethingto do,' she said, 'you said you meant to write to your mother.'

'Oh yes!' said Gillian, suddenly fretted, and with a sense of beinghunted, 'I have plenty to do.'

'I see,' said Miss Mohun, turning over the books that lay on thelittle table that had been appropriated to her niece, in a way that,unreasonably or not, unspeakably worried the girl, 'Brachet's FrenchGrammar---that's right. Colenso's Algebra---I don't think they usethat at the High School. Julius Caesar---you should read that up inMerivale.'

'I did,' said Gillian, in a voice that very nearly said, 'Do let themalone.'

'Well, you have materials for a very useful, sensible morning's work,and when Ada comes down, very likely she will like to be read to.'

Off went the aunt, leaving the niece stirred into an absolute desire,instead of spending the sensible morning, to take up 'NearNeighbours', and throw herself into an easy-chair; and when she hadconscientiously resisted that temptation, her pen would hover over'Hilda's Experiences', even when she had actually written 'DearestMamma.' She found she was in no frame to write such a letter aswould be a comfort to her mother, so she gave that up, and made hersole assertion of liberty the working out of a tough double equationin Colenso, which actually came right, and put her in such goodhumour that she was no longer afraid of drumming the poor piano todeath and Aunt Ada upstairs to distraction, but ventured on learningone of the Lieder ohne Worte; and when her Aunt Ada came down andcomplimented her on the sounds that had ascended, she was complacentenough to write a very cheerful letter, whilst her aunt was busiedwith her own. She described the Sunday-school question that hadarisen, and felt sure that her father would pronounce his Gill to bea sensible young woman. Afterwards Miss Adeline betook herself to abeautiful lily of church embroidery, observing, as Gillian sat downto read to her Alphonse Karr's Voyage autour de mon Jardin, that itwas a real pleasure to listen to such prettily-pronounced French.Kunz lay at her feet, the Sofy nestled in Gillian's lap, and therewas a general sense of being rubbed down the right way.

By and by there loomed through the rain two dripping shiny formsunder umbrellas strongly inclined to fly away from them---Miss Mohunand Mr. Grant, the junior curate, whom she had brought home toluncheon. Both were full of the irregularities of the two churchesof Bellevue and St. Kenelm's on the recent harvest-thanksgivingSunday. It was hard to tell which was most reprobated, what St.Kenelm's did or what Bellevue did not do. If the one blew trumpetsin procession, the other collected the offertory in a warming-pan.Gillian had already begun to find that these misdoings supplied muchconversation at Beechcroft Cottage, and began to get half weary, halfcurious to judge for herself of all these enormities; nor did shefeel more interested in the discussion of who had missed church orschool, and who needed tickets for meat, or to be stirred up to payfor their coal club.

At last she heard, 'Well, I think you might read to her, Gillian!Oh! were not you listening? A very nice girl near here, a pupilteacher, who has developed a hip complaint, poor child. She willenjoy having visits from you, a young thing like herself.'

Gillian did not like it at all, but she knew that it would be wrongto refuse, and answered, 'Very well,' with no alacrity---hoping thatit was not an immediate matter, and that something might happen toprevent it. But at that moment the sun came out, the rain hadceased, and there were glistening drops all over the garden; theweather quarter was clear, and after half an hours rest after dinnerAunt Jane jumped up, decreeing that it was time to go out, and thatshe would introduce Gillian to Lilian Giles before going on to therest of her district.

She gathered a few delicate flowers in the little conservatory, andput them in a basket with a peach from the dessert, then took down acouple of books from the shelf. Gillian could not but acquiesce,though she was surprised to find that the one given to her was atranslation of Undine.

'The child is not badly off,' explained Miss Mohun. 'Her father is asuperior workman. She does not exactly want comforts, but she issadly depressed and disappointed at not being able to go on with herwork, and the great need is to keep her from fretting over hertroubles, and interested in something.'

Gillian began to think of one of the graceful hectic invalids of whomshe had read, and to grow more interested as she followed Aunt Janepast the old church with the stout square steeple, constructed tohold, on a small side turret window, a light for the benefit of shipsat sea. Then the street descended towards the marble works. Therewas a great quarry, all red and raw with recent blasting, and above,below, and around, rows of new little stuccoed, slated houses, forthe work-people, and a large range of workshops and offices frontingthe sea. This was Miss Mohun's district, and at a better-lookinghouse she stopped and used the knocker.

That was no distinction; all had doors with knockers and sashwindows, but this was a little larger, and the tiny strip of gardenwas well kept, while a beautiful myrtle and pelargonium peeped overthe muslin blind; and it was a very nice-looking woman who opened thedoor, though she might have been the better for a cap. Aunt Janeshook hands with her, rather to Gillian's surprise, and heard thatLily was much the same.

'It is her spirits are so bad, you see, Miss Mohun,' she added, asshe ushered them into a somewhat stuffy little parlour, carpeted andbedecked with all manner of knick-knacks, photographs, and framedcertificates of various societies of temperance and providence on thegaily-papered walls. The girl lay on a couch near the fire, a sallowcreature, with a big overhanging brow, made heavier by a dark fringe,and an expression that Gillian not unjustly decided was fretful,though she smiled, and lighted up a little when she saw Miss Mohun.

There was a good deal said about her bad nights, and her appetite,and how the doctor wanted her to take as much as she could, and howeverything went against her---even lardy cake and roly-poly puddingwith bacon in it!

Miss Mohun put the flowers on the little table near the girl, whosmiled a little, and thanked her in a languid dreary manner. Findingthat she had freshly been visited by the rector, Miss Mohun would notstop for any serious reading, but would leave Miss Merrifield to reada story to her.

'And you ought to get on together,' she said, smiling. 'You are justabout the same age, and your names rhyme--Gillian and Lilian. AndGillians mother is a Lily too.'

This the young lady lid not like, for she was already feeling it asort of presumption in the girl to bear a name so nearly resemblingher mother's. She had seen a little cottage poverty, and had had aclass of little maidservants; but this level of life which is in nowant, keeps a best parlour, and does not say ma'am, was quite new toher, and she did not fancy it. When the girls were left together,while Mrs. Giles returned to her ironing, Gillian was the shyer ofthe two, and began rather awkwardly and reluctantly---

'Miss Mohun thought you would like to hear this. It is a sort ofGerman fairy tale.'

Lilian said, 'Yes, Miss Merrifield' in a short dry tone, completingGillian's distaste, and she began to read, not quite at her best, andwas heartily glad when at the end of half an hour Mrs. Giles washeard in parley with another visitor, so that she had an excuse forgoing away without attempting conversation. She was overtaken by thechildren on their way home from their schools, where they had dined.They rushed upon her, together with the two Varleys, who wanted totake them home to tea; and Gillian giving her ready consent, Fergusdashed home to fetch his beloved humming-top, which was to beintroduced to Clement Varley's pump, and in a few minutes they wereoff, hardly vouchsafing an answer to such comparatively triflinginquiries as how they were placed at their schools.

Gillian found, however, that neither of her aunts was pleased at herhaving consented to the children's going out without reference totheir authority. How did she suppose they were to come home?

'I did not think, can't they be fetched?' said Gillian, startled.

'It is not far,' said Adeline, pitying her. 'One of the maids---'

'My dear Ada!' exclaimed Aunt Jane. 'You know that Fanny cannot goout at night with her throat, and I never will send out those younggirls on any account.'

'Can't I go?' said Gillian desperately.

'Are not you a young girl? I must go myself.'

And go she did at a quarter to eight, and brought home the children,looking much injured. Gillian went upstairs with them, and there wasan outburst.

'It was horrid to be fetched home so soon, just as there was a chanceof something nice; when all the tiresome big ones had gone to dress,and we could have had some real fun,' said Valetta.

'Real fun! Real sense!' said Fergus.

'But what had you been about all this time?'

'Why, their sisters and a man that was there _would_ come and drinktea in the nursery, where nobody wanted them, and make us play theirplay.

'Wasn't that nice? You are always crying out for Harry and me tocome and play with you.'

'Oh, it wasn't like that,' said Val, 'you play with us, and they onlypretended, and played with each other. It wasn't nice.'

'Clem said it was---forking,' said Fergus.

'No, spooning,' said Val. 'The dish ran after the spoon, you know.'

'Well, but you haven't told me about the schools,' said Gillian, inelder sisterly propriety, thinking the subject had better beabandoned.

'Jolly, jolly, scrumptious!' cried Fergus.

'Oh! Fergus, mamma doesn't like slang words. Jasper doesn't saythem.'

'Not at home, but men say what they like at school, and the 'bus wasscrumptious and splendiferous!'

'Oh! it was jolly, jolly, jolly!' cried the boy. 'Stebbing hit thegirl who made the sour face on her cheeks, and they all squealed, andthe cad looked in and tried to jaw us.'

'But that dreadful boy shot right into his mouth,' said Val, whileFergus went into an ecstasy of laughter. 'Wasn't it a shame, Gill?'

'Indeed it was' said Gillian. 'Such ungentlemanly boys ought not tobe allowed in the omnibus.'

'Girls shouldn't be allowed in the 'bus, they are so stupid,' saidFergus. 'That one---as cross as old Halfpenny---who was she, Val?'

'Emma Norton! Up in the highest form!'

'Well, she is a prig, and a tell-tale-tit besides; only Stebbing saidif she did, her junior would catch it.'

'What a dreadful bully he must be!' exclaimed Gillian.

I'll tell you what,' said Fergus, in a tone of profound admiration,'no one can hold a candle to him at batting! He snowballed all theKennel choir into fits, and he can brosier old Tilly's stall, and goon just the same.'

'What a greedy boy!' exclaimed Val.

'Disgusting,' added Gillian.

'You're girls,' responded Fergus, lengthening the syllable withinfinite contempt; but Valetta had spirit enough to reply, 'Muchbetter be a girl than rude and greedy.'

'Well, but you've never told me about school---how you are placed, andwhom you are under.'

'Oh! I'm in middle form, under Miss Edgar. Disgusting! It's onlythe third form that go up to Smiler. She knows it is no use to tryto take Stebbing and Burfield.'

'And, Gill,' added Val, 'I'm in second class too, and I took threeplaces for knowing where Teheran was, and got above Kitty Varley anda girl there two years older than I am, and her name is Maura.'

'Maura, how very odd! I never heard of any one called Maura but oneof the Whites,' said Gillian. 'What was her surname?'

This Valetta could not tell, and at the moment Mrs. Mount came upwith intent to brush Miss Valetta's hair, and to expedite the goingto bed.

Gillian, not very happy about the revelations she had heard, wentdownstairs, and found her younger aunt alone, Miss Mohun having beensummoned to a conference with one of her clients in the parish room.In her absence Gillian always felt more free and communicative, andshe had soon told whatever she did not feel as a sort of confidence,including Valetta's derivation of spooning, and when Miss Mohunreturned it was repeated to her.

'Yes,' was her comment, 'children's play is a convenient cover to thepresent form of flirtation. No doubt Bee Varley and Mr. Marlowebelieve themselves to have been most good-natured.'

'Who is he, and will it come to anything?' asked Aunt Ada, taking hersister's information for granted.

'Oh no, it is nothing. A civil service man, second cousin's brother-in-law's stepson. That's quite enough in these days to justifyfraternal romping.'

'I thought Beatrice Varley a nice girl.'

'So she is, my dear. It is only the spirit of the age, and, afterall, this deponent saith not which was the dish and which was thespoon. Have the children made any other acquaintances, I wonder?And how did George Stebbing comport himself in the omnibus? I wassorry to see him there; I don't trust that boy.'

'I wonder they didn't send him in solitary grandeur in the brougham,'said Miss Ada.

Gillian held the history of the pea-shooting as a confidence, eventhough Aunt Jane seemed to have been able to see through the omnibus,so she contented herself with asking who George Stebbing was.

'The son of the manager of the marble works; partner, I believe.'

'Yes,' said Aunt Ada. 'the Co. means Stebbing primarily.'

'Is he a gentleman?'

'Well, as much as old Mr. White himself, I suppose. He is come uphere---more's the pity---to the aristocratic quarter, if you please,'said Aunt Jane, smiling, 'and if garden parties are not over, Mr.Stebbing may show you what they can be.'

'That boy ought to be at a public school,' said her sister. 'I hopehe doesn't bully poor little Fergus.'

'I had rather hear of bullying than patronage in that quarter,' saidMiss Mohun. 'But, Gillian, we must impress on the children that theyare to go to no one's house without express leave. That will avoidoffence, and I should prefer their enjoying the society of even theVarleys in this house.'

Did Aunt Jane repent of her decision on the Thursday half-holidaygranted to Mrs. Edgar's pupils, when, in the midst of the workingparty round the dining-room table, in a pause of the reading, someone said, 'What's that!'---and a humming, accompanied by a drip, drop,drip, drop, became audible?

Up jumped Miss Mohun, and so did Gillian, half in consternation, halfto shield the boy from her wrath. In a few moments they beheld apuddle on the mat at the bottom of the oak stairs, while a stream wasdescending somewhat as the water comes down at Lodore, while Fergus'svoice could be heard above---

'Don't, Varley! You see how it will act. The string of the humming-top moves the pump handle, and that spins. Oh!'

'Master Fergus! Oh---h, you bad boy!'

The shriek was caused by the avenging furies who had rushed up theback stairs just as Miss Mohun had darted up the front, so as tobehold, on the landing between the two, the boys, one spinning thetop, the other working the pump which stood in its own trough ofwater, receiving a reckless supply from the tap in the passage. Themaid's scream of 'What will your aunt say?' was answered by herappearance, and rush to turn the cock.

'Don't, don't, Aunt Jane,' shouted Fergus; 'I've almost done it!Perpetual motion.' He seemed quite unconscious that the motion waskept up by his own hands, and even dismay could not turn him frombeing triumphant.

'Mop it up, Alice,' said Aunt Jane to the younger girl. 'No don'tcome up, Ada; it is too wet for you. It is only a misdirectedexperiment in hydraulics.'

'I told him not,' said Clement Varley, thinking affairs serious.

'Fergus, I am shocked at you,' said Gillian sternly. 'You arefrightfully wet. You must be sent to bed.'

'You must go and change,' said Aunt Jane, preventing the howl aboutto break forth. 'My dear boy, that tap must be let alone. We can'thave cataracts on the stairs.'

'I didn't mean it, Aunt Jane; I thought it was an invention,' saidFergus.

'I know; but another time come and ask me where to try yourexperiments. Go and take off those clothes; and you, Clement, youare soaking too. Run home at once.'

Gillian, much scandalised, broke out---

'It is very naughty. At home, he would be sent to bed at once.'

'I am not Mrs. Halfpenny, Gillian,' said Aunt Jane coldly.

'Jane has a soft spot for inventions, for Maurice's sake,' said hersister.

'I can't confound ingenuity and enterprise with wanton mischief, orcrush it out for want of sympathy,' said Miss Mohun. 'Come, we mustreturn to our needles.'

If Aunt Jane had gone into the state of wrath to be naturallyexpected, Gillian would have risen in arms on her brother's behalf,and that would have been much pleasanter than the leniency which madeher views of justice appear like unkindness.

This did not dispose her to be the better pleased at an entreaty fromthe two children to be allowed to join Mrs. Hablot's class on Sunday.It appeared that they had asked Aunt Jane, and she had told them thattheir sister knew what their mother would like.

'But I am sure she would not mind,' said Valetta. 'Only think, shehas got a portfolio with pictures of everything all through theBible!'

'Yes,' added Fergus, 'Clem told me. There are the dogs eatingJezebel, and such a jolly picture of the lion killing the prophet.I do want to see them! Varley told me!'

'And Kitty told me,' added Valetta. 'She is reading such a book tothem. It is called The Beautiful Face, and is all about two childrenin a wood, and a horrid old grandmother and a dear old hermit, and awicked baron in a castle! Do let us go, Gillyflower.

'Yes,' said Fergus; 'it would be ever so much better fun than pokinghere'

Whether it were on purpose or not, the next Sunday was eminentlyunsuccessful; the Collects were imperfect, the answers in theCatechism recurred to disused babyish blunders; Fergus twistedhimself into preternatural attitudes, and Valetta teased the Sofy toscratching point, they yawned ferociously at The Birthday, and wouldnot be interested even in the pony's death. Then when they went outwalking, they would not hear of the sober Rockstone lane, butinsisted on the esplanade, where they fell in with the redoubtableStebbing, who chose to patronise instead of bullying 'little Merry'---and took him off to the tide mark---to the agony of his sisters, whenthey heard the St. Andrew's bell.

At last, when the tempter had gone off to higher game, Fergus'sSunday boots and stockings were such a mass of black mud that Gillianhad to drag him home in disgrace, sending Valetta into church alone.She would have put him to bed on her own responsibility, but shecould not master him; he tumbled about the room, declaring Aunt Janewould do no such thing, rolled up his stockings in a ball, and threwthem in his sister's face.

Gillian retired in tears, which she let no one see, not even AuntAda, and proceeded to record in her letter to India that thosedreadful boys were quite ruining Fergus, and Aunt Jane was spoilinghim.

However, Aunt Jane, having heard what had become of the youth, methim in no spoiling mood; and though she never knew of his tussle withGillian, she spoke to him very seriously, shut him into his own room,to learn thoroughly what he had neglected in the morning, and allowedhim no jam at tea. She said nothing to Gillian, but there wereinferences.

The lessons went no better on the following Sunday; Gillian couldneither enforce her authority nor interest the children. She avoidedthe esplanade, thinking she had found a nice country walk to thecommon beyond the marble works; but, behold, there was an outbreak ofdrums and trumpets and wild singing. The Salvation Army was marchingthat way, and, what was worse, yells and cat-calls behind showed thatthe Skeleton Army was on its way to meet them. Gillian, frightenedalmost out of her wits, managed to fly over an impracticable-lookinggate into a field with her children, but Fergus wanted to follow thedrum. After that she gave in. The children went to Mrs. Hablot, andGillian thought she saw 'I told you so' in the corners of Aunt Jane'seyes.

It was a further offence that her aunt strongly recommended her goingregularly to the High School instead of only attending certainclasses. It would give her far more chance of success at theexamination to work with others and her presence would be good forValetta. But to reduce her to a schoolgirl was to be resented onMiss Vincent's account as well as her own.

CHAPTER IV. THE QUEEN OF THE WHITE ANTS

The High School was very large. It stood at present at the end of abudding branch of Rockquay, where the managers, assisted by the fundsadvanced by Lord Rotherwood and that great invisible potentate, thehead of the marble works, had secured and adapted a suitable house,and a space round it well walled in.

The various classes of students did not see much of each other,except those who were day boarders and spent the midday recreationtime together. Even those in the same form were only together inschool, as the dressing-room of those who dined there was separatefrom that of the others, and they did not come in and out at the sametime. Valetta had thus only really made friends with two or threemore Rockstone girls of about her own age besides Kitty Yarley, withwhom she went backwards and forwards every day, under the escortprovided in turn by the families of the young ladies.

Gillian's studies were for three hours in the week at the HighSchool, and on two afternoons she learnt from the old organist atRockstone Church. She went and came alone, except when Miss Mohunhappened to join her, and that was not often, 'For,' said that ladyto her sister, 'Gillian always looks as if she thought I was actingspy upon her. I wish I could get on with that girl; I begin to feelalmost as poor Lily did with Dolores.'

'She is a very good girl,' said Miss Adeline.

'So she is; and that makes it all the more trying to be treated likethe Grand Inquisitor.'

'Shall I speak to her? She is always as pleasant as possible withme.'

'Oh no, don't. It would only make it worse, and prevent you fromhaving her confidence.'

'Ah, Jane, I have often thought your one want was gentleness,' saidMiss Ada, with the gesture of her childhood---her head a little on oneside. 'And, besides, don't you know what Reggie used to call yourferret look? Well, I suppose you can't help it, but when you want toknow a thing and are refraining from asking questions, you alwayshave it more or less.'

'Thank you, Ada. There's nothing like brothers and sisters fortelling one home-truths. I suppose it is the penalty of having beena regular Paul Pry in my childhood, in spite of poor Eleanor makingme learn "Meddlesome Matty" as soon as I could speak. I always _do_and always _shall_ have ringing in my ears---

'"Oh! what a pretty box is this, I'll open it," said little Miss.'

'Well, you know you always do know or find out everything abouteverybody, and it is very useful.'

'Useful as a bloodhound is, eh?'

'Oh no, not that, Jenny.'

'As a ferret, or a terrier, perhaps. I suppose I cannot help that,though,' she added, rather sadly. 'I have tried hard to cure theslander and gossip that goes with curiosity. I am sorry it resultsin repulsion with that girl; but I suppose I can only go on and lether find out that my bark, or my eye, is worse than my bite.'

'You are so good, so everything, Jenny,' said Adeline, 'that I amsure you will have her confidence in time, if only you won't pokeafter it.'

Which made Miss Mohun laugh, though her heart was heavy, for she hadlooked forward to having a friend and companion in the younggeneration.

Gillian meantime went her way.

One morning, after her mathematical class was over, she was delayedfor about ten minutes by the head mistress, to whom she had brought amessage from her aunt, and thus did not come out at noon at the sametime as the day scholars. On issuing into the street, where as yetthere was hardly any traffic, except what was connected with the twoschools, she perceived that a party of boys were besetting a littlegirl who was trying to turn down the cross road to Bellevue, barringher way, and executing a derisive war-dance around her, and when she,almost crying, made an attempt to dash by, pulling at her plaitedtail, with derisive shouts, even Gillian's call, 'Boys, boys, how canyou be so disgraceful!' did not check them. One made a face and puthis tongue out, while the biggest called out, 'Thank you, teacher,'and Gillian perceived to her horror, that they were no street boys,but Mrs. Edgar's, and that Fergus was one of them. That he cried indismay, 'Don't, Stebbing! It's my sister,' was no consolation, asshe charged in among them, catching hold of her brother, as she said,

'I could not believe that you could behave in such a disgracefulmanner!'

All the other tormentors rushed away headlong, except Stebbing, who,in some compunction, said---

'I beg your pardon, Miss Merrifield, I had no notion it was you.'

'You are making it no better,' said Gillian. 'The gentlemen I amused to know how to behave properly to any woman or girl. My fatherwould be very sorry that my brother has been thrown into suchcompany.'

And she walked away with her head extremely high, having certainlygiven Master Stebbing a good lesson. Fergus ran after her. 'Gill,Gill, you won't tell.'